


"Three lousy years"

by bitter_crimson (Krim)



Category: Criminal Minds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2018-10-17 10:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10592526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krim/pseuds/bitter_crimson





	

At the time, Reid is kind of overwhelmed by the painful feeling of Hotch's shoe pressing into his gut, forceful despite Hotch's attempts to hold himself back, because the unsub is watching and Hotch can't take the chance he won't believe this.

So he's in pain, and Reid has never really been a fan of pain, so he doesn't have to worry about having any other type of physical reaction to Hotch's words.

But after, in the ambulance, he keeps flashing back to it, and it's not that he genuinely thinks Hotch meant any of it. He knows it was an act, knows Hotch was playing to the unsub's delusions. When Hotch comes to him and apologises, Reid knows, logically, he's being sincere.

Still, there's a tiny, gnawing doubt in the back of his mind. He remembers Hotch's voice, sneering, declaring his utter disdain for Reid. Reid remembers that moment of thinking, _Yes, it's true. He's finally seen me for what I am. A useless failure. A freak. A joke of an FBI agent. Nothing more than a walking textbook, holding the rest of the team back._ In his room, Reid takes deep breaths and presses the heel of his palm against his fly, and it all comes swimming back to him, the relief at being revealed as the fraud he knows himself to be, the shame of knowing Hotch has lost faith in him. Reid undoes his pants and slips a shaking hand inside.

His cheeks are hot and he feels perverse, but he can't stop himself. Reid wraps his hand around his cock, twisting into a parody of his earlier position on the floor, and allows himself to be pulled into the fantasy, feels the heat coming off Hotch's body as the older man crouches over him, around him, whispering hotly in his ear.

"Three lousy years," Hotch growls, and Reid's breath hitches as he curls more tightly into himself, speeding his strokes as he does so.

"I can't believe you're getting off on this," says Hotch. "You're sick, you know that? Sick and useless. We're all just waiting for you to break down, you know. _I'm_ waiting for you to break down." Reid imagines Hotch leaning in closer, the ghosting of his breath across the shell of Reid's ear. "You're pathetic," Hotch whispers.

"I'm... pathetic..." Reid repeats in between heavy breaths. His eyelids flutter closed and he imagines Hotch pulling away from him, moving around in front of him, peering into his face. " _Oh god_ ," he says.

"It's only a matter of time before the rest of the team realizes it," Hotch says angrily. "Useless. Good for nothing. Today was a fluke. You're no good beyond your books, your random irritating facts. You're a whiner. You only hold us back in the field." He moves in, and Reid can see Hotch in his mind's eye, barely inches from his face. "You disgust me," Hotch hisses.

Reid cries out, coming into his hand. He strokes himself through it, releasing himself when he's finished, light quivers threading through his body. He opens his eyes to his empty bedroom, then reaches a hand out to grab at his holster, lying behind him on the bed. The gun is cold and hard, and Reid slides his fingers over it slowly. He takes a deep breath, and lets his eyes fall closed once more.


End file.
